If You Have To Leave
by Cohen's girl
Summary: A rambling oneshot, alternative ending after Kyle leaves Hotel Dusk. Kyle x Jeff, rated M for male/male and a small use of coarse language.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hotel Dusk or the characters.**

**Author's Note: I blame yunakitty for inspiring me to write this :P Why is it written in the second person? I don't know, is the simple answer. For some reason, I just imagined Hotel Dusk being written in the second person. So that's how I wrote it.**

**Its AU from the end of the game. Also I toyed with the personalities a little- not hugely. **

**DerekxJeff, though its not at all graphic. Rated M for a little use of coarse language.**

**...Take Me With You**

In all honesty, you were glad to drive away from Hotel Dusk.

No, you were not just glad. Hyperbolic as it might sound, you were verging on ecstatic. One night there had been more than enough. You were just about ready to give up on Bradley, give up on the Red Crown, give up on everything and just move the fuck away somewhere.

Anywhere. Anywhere where all the things that had happened just wouldn't matter any more.

Of course, you knew better than that. You knew that you would go back to working for the Red Crown, knew that after a week or two you'd be back to hunting down Bradley and trying to date Rachel.

For a moment, though, it was nice to dream, as you cruised down the open freeway, leaving a cloud of dust in your wake. Just for a moment, it was easy to let yourself believe you could be someone else- but it hadn't lasted long.

Because of what you had left behind.

***

It was bad enough leaving Mila- listening to her pleading with Rosa to let you stay, or let her leave. Both of which she had refused, maternally, already having decided the young woman was her ward, her responsibility.

You were sure, for some unfathomable reason, that actually it was yours; part of what made it so hard to walk away.

Then there had been the other...kid.

Damon had been waiting for you as you had burst through the doors of Hotel Dusk into the hot sunlight, waiting with nothing but his ID and his puppy-dog eyes.

He was hanging onto a tiny thread of hope, and you knew it, a tiny sliver of hope that you _might _give him somewhere to go. Someone to go _with._

You had quickly disproved the theory.

"Whaddya want, kid?" He blinked long and lazy lashes at you, quiet smirk bright and hair painted golden in the sun.

"Take me with you." The boy hadn't beaten about the bush, words blunt as a hammer. You shook your head straight away, after all, you'd had enough of hidden secrets and riddles of the past, and you'd certainly had enough of this punk to last a lifetime. For some reason, _no_ hadn't come out straight away, instead you'd asked,

"What you wanna come with me for?" He had edged a little closer, apparently taking this as a good sign, looking up at you with godforsaken, striking eyes and murmuring,

"I don't want to go home to my daddy." You physically cringed. Boy was this kid spoilt. "He's a- a real bad man...I want to be somewhere else." You distinctly remember thinking '_Don't we all, kid.'_

"You can't come with me." You replied, dully, trudging your way over to your car, the battered old girl still glistening like new.

"Please..." His voice was trembling, just the lightest tremor, but you heard it, and it was hard to ignore.

"Go back to your pop, beg him to forgive you, and then hope he fuckin' learns his lesson."

"I don't _want _to, Mr. Hyde."

"Well I don't want _you, _Damon." You hadn't really meant to be so harsh, and from the way he recoiled, frowning, it was obvious that the words had stung. You tried to make amends, muttering, "Sorry, kid, but you'll have to find somewhere else to go."

He had just- just _looked _at you. You hated the feeling of judgement that was emanating from his eyes.

For whatever reason, he really had expected you to agree to his dumb idea. He clearly wasn't used to being refused anything- his bewildered, mildly upset expression had told you that.

Obviously either his money or his pretty face usually got him wherever he wanted to go.

You just shook your head at him, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feelings of guilt while you were at it, and climbed into the car. Revved up her engine, listening for the light purr before driving away without looking at them goddamn eyes.

***

You were about ten miles down the road, and about ten seconds into dreaming of a vacation and forgetting what has been your life since handing in your badge, when you abruptly turned your car around and started driving back.

You didn't try to explain it to yourself. You probably couldn't have explained it even if you'd tried.

Best not to delve into feelings better left unexplored.

The kid is sat on the steps with his chin balanced on his delicate, china-doll hands, waiting. He knew you were coming back. Somehow, he just fuckin' knew. When you park up again, and get out of the car with a frown marring your face, cross your arms and stare at him; the punk doesn't bat an eyelid. At first he doesn't even move, just looks up at you, testing your patience on purpose. His punishment for your lack of civility.

Then he pulls himself gracefully to his feet, and without saying a word, walks over to your car, opens the door, and places himself gingerly in the passenger seat.

You don't ask yourself why you're not arguing.

_'Better left unexplored, right?'_ All you say to him is,

"Don't call me Mr. Hyde. Its Kyle, or nothing."

***

There's no way to make it back to your apartment in one night, so you are forced to stop at another Motel. The kid- Jeff, you try to remind yourself, boy has a name after all- did little but complain, yet still complained less than you'd have thought.

_'Just you wait.'_, you think cynically to yourself.

You ignore the strange look you get when you ask for only one room. Its not like you're going to waste cash on Damon, and he doesn't question you.

However, when you enter the room and motion at a chair, saying,

"You can sleep there." he raises an eyebrow at you incredulously.

"Its a chair." He states blankly, and you nod briskly at him.

"Yeah. Its also your bed tonight." Jeff practically pouts at you.

"I'm not sleeping in _that_." If he were any more of a snob, he'd probably demand a fuckin' mint on his pillow too. You shrug nonchalantly, replying coarsely,

"Don't sleep then." He huffs dramatically, then makes a step towards you, a light smirk dancing merrily on his lips.

"Why can't I just sleep in the bed with you?" He licks his lips now, so that they glisten wetly, making you swallow uneasily. You have to take a moment to fathom what he said.

_'What? Oh. Oh! Oh, Hell, no.'_

"No thanks, kid." He reacts as if you had physically slapped him in the face. The smile vanishes. You want to feel bad, disgusted even, but it disturbs you more than anything else; if the kid knew anything about the world, you _know_ he wouldn't just offer himself up with no reserve. Then again, there was no coyness in the proposition, which does lead you to wonder.

"What?" He couldn't sound any more put out if he tried.

"That- ain't my thing." He doesn't seem to believe you, and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before any awkward issues arise. "Why don't you ring your pop? At least let him know it was you that took his money." Whatever he had been going to say, you really didn't need to hear it. You don't need to be forced to think about why you brought him along.

"He'll make me come home." You snort, your own kind of smirk now playing on your mouth. Not as obvious as his, though, just a slight upturn in the corner of your lips.

"What, using just his voice?" Jeff makes a small, shrugging motion, suddenly avoiding your eyes. _'Clearly not used to being rebellious.' _You know his father has to find out at some point however, or things could get...well, messy. Much messier than they already are.

"You'll have to tell him sometime." The kid just clenches his jaw and doesn't reply, so you clamber into bed, shedding your clothes along the way. You figure you can leave it for one night.

Jeff climbs delicately into his chair and curls up, in a way reminiscent to a cat. You listen quietly until his breathing becomes even, and when you are sure he is safely asleep, you allow yourself to drift off.

***

When you awake early the next morning, half a result of your body-clock and half a result of the soft rays of sunlight peering through the blinds, he is still fast asleep.

You regard him quietly for a moment. He doesn't look comfortable; an arm splayed awkwardly over the arm of the chair, neck twisted into a strange position. Without thinking, you pull yourself from your bed and amble over, gently rearranging him into a more comfortable looking position.

This catches you by surprise, because you really didn't think about what you were going to do, you just...did it.

He simply sighs softly, and mumbles something. Blissfully ignorant.

You throw yourself into the shower, let the scalding water burn away the grime- both physical and metaphorical- and then step out feeling refreshed.

Time to hit the road. Got to keep moving.

***

You are driving along an empty freeway without conversation, flicking between stations to see if you can get the radio going- you don't like it when the kid is quiet, the silence seems unnatural- when Jeff suddenly produces the question you have been dreading,

"So why did you let me come, Kyle?" You seem to have some sort of mental shut down, so you end up saying nothing, effectively ignoring him. You keep flicking to new channels instead, eventually managing to produce a grunt in reply. He rolls his eyes theatrically. "There must have been a reason, if it wasn't for...then why?"

"What, I dent your precious ego or something?" Answering a question with a question is an avoidance tactic- you're a detective. You know that. You go ahead and do it anyway, though. He gives you a quiet glare, dropping the subject, for now. Mutters a curse at you under his breath.

***

Its not until you arrive at your apartment that the thought really occurs to you again.

'_What the fuck am I going to do with this kid?' _

He doesn't even have clothes, except for what he's wearing. Money. Anything. What on Earth did you bring him here for?

When he eyes you dolefully, however, you just sigh and push the thought to the back of your mind.

"Hungry?" Its meant to be an olive branch, you suppose, an offering of peace- kid's been awfully quiet since you rejected his roundabout advance- but he doesn't really say anything, just sort of stands there and looks small. Something in the pit of your heart goes out to him. You reiterate the question, "I'm ordering in, kid, if you want something, say now." He just nods, and you regard him for a moment again. '_Gotta be a culture shock for him. Not a penny to his name, can't go crawling back to his family. Probably scared. Kid needs some serious feeding up, too. Skinny as a rake.' _

"You like Italian?" He blinks his long lashes at you, big brown eyes still tinged with hope, and he nods hesitantly. Italian reminds you of Denonno, makes you chuckle. Its been a long couple of days, so you make sure to order plenty, and then direct the kid to go have a shower. While he's gone, you try to find some of your old clothes that might fit him, because he really can't wear that same tee and jeans much longer, but just looking at your stuff you can see it'll be way too big for him.

_'Kid's a fuckin' rake.'_

When you attempt to offer your own clothing, however, he turns you down haughtily anyway.

Your food is delivered, and you eat in companionable silence until Jeff starts to quiz you again,

"So what's gonna happen now?" Honestly, you haven't got a clue. He'll either tell his dad, and get the Hell out of your apartment or...or...get a job. Or something.

"That's up to you, I guess." He stops with his fork half way to his mouth.

"What do you mean?" You actually chuckle aloud.

"Well, you gotta tell your pop what you've done. Then either go back home, or...I dunno. Get a job, or go back to university or something." He plays with his food now, swallowing and shifting uncomfortably.

"I've never had a job." '_Go figure.'_ You really aren't surprised, and decide not to mention that he ignored you're comment on him returning to university.

"Well, now's as good a time as any to get one." He laughs self-depreciatively.

"Where, exactly? Doing what? I haven't got much to offer an employer, have I?" Before you can control yourself the words are out of your mouth, verbal incontinence,

"Just don't go around offering what you offered me." It touches a nerve, you can tell because his eyes well up a little, and he spits angrily,

"I didn't offer-...I wouldn't do that." He refuses to touch his food afterwards.

You feel a sharp pang of guilt.

***

Of course, it is not until you are lying in bed in the dark of night, that thoughts start swirling around your brain and prevent you from sleep.

Honestly, what _are _you going to do with him? Honestly. Why _did _you bring him here?

You want to answer these questions, but you can't. You just can't.

Could he really get a job? Who would take him in, what would he do? But if he can't, do you really want to just send him back to his father, watch the kid get put in prison?

He's too pretty to go to prison, and you know it.

You chastise yourself, in the dead of night, for not thinking through what you were going to do next. '_Why do I always act first and think fucking later?' _Jeff is not some animal you could just adopt, and then take to the pound if you change your mind. He's a human being. He's relying on you now. What happens to him is all up to you, and _you _chose that, _you_, the most solitary, isolated, could-not-possibly-be-responsible-for-others person to exist.

The soft swish of your door opening catches your attention, and a shadowed silhouette pauses in your doorway.

He doesn't say anything for so long you start to doubt that it really is the kid at all.

He doesn't even close the door behind him, leaving an escape route for his impending rejection.

"I can't sleep." He whispers, and its so utterly pathetic that instead of turning him away, you simply reply,

"Come here, then." He glides over your carpet, appears almost ethereal as he passes through the one white beam of moonlight that has fought its way through your shutters, and slides gently under your duvet. He doesn't touch you, or say another word- trying to prove he's not _exactly_ what you think he is- but you can still feel him there, and things seem to make a little more sense.

You roll over, put an arm around his shoulders, and gruffly pull his cold little body against your bare chest.

He says nothing, but curls into you.

Suddenly all these strange little pieces fit into place, your own riddle finally solved. With him in your bed; with him snuggled against you, quiet and serene; with his breath tickling across your body, his presence makes sense.

You suddenly understand why he is here, why you brought him. You haven't thought about Bradley once in the last couple of days.

And when you close your eyes, sleep is sweet.


End file.
